Roses in December

Fourteen

Roger let out a groan as Freddie and Brian entered the hospital room, both looking stressed and a bit worn as they made their way over to him. The small fender bender he had been in was nothing compared to the previous accident, but he had been knocked out cold and taken in to make sure there was no further damage.

His nose had been fractured, leaving his face a bit bruised and his head pounding. After he had taken in the hospital for a second time, the doctors and nurses fixed him up as much as they could. Thankfully, he hadn't landed himself into a coma for the second time.

His car was a bit crushed, but luckily he was still in the collections lot and they took it right back. He'd have to pay for all the damage and his insurance was sure to drop him by this point, but he wasn't lacking in money. They had enough albums to their names to afford destroying ten cars three times over.

Freddie looked the exact opposite of pleased as he and Brian pulled up, his hands crossing over his chest as he looked his bandmate over.

"Honestly, Roger? I'm starting to think you're just doing this for attention!" Freddie commented in his usual dramatic and judgmental self.

"I'm getting very tired of having to drive to this hospital, Roger. Do I look like a bloody chauffeur?" Brian quipped, leaning back against the far wall.

"Oh, shut up!" Roger groaned, his voice higher and a tad more nasally than usual. He was lucky to have walked away at all, no matter how small the accident was. To be honest, it was more ridiculous than anything. Hitting a fire hydrant right out of the gate. What kind of fool would do such a thing?

The drummer of Queen, that is who.

"We didn't call John. We worried we'd give him too much of fright if he found out you were in another accident."

"I'm fine. Car is beaten up, but it's mostly my face and ego that's been harmed." Roger confessed to them tiredly.

"Really Roge, I think you're getting a bit comfortable here." Brian teased. "You should set up your solo video right here in hospital."

Roger turned, his blue eyes sparkling even brighter with the dark circles settled on his face. He was bruised and beaten, but he was alive and that was all that mattered. The nurses had given him an icepack for his head, which was now wet and mushy in his hand.

"Oh, har-har, very funny. Big words from the man who had to be hospitalized mid-tour!" Roger fired back, tossing the icepack onto the table beside him.

"We agreed to never mention that. I could have died."

"I was in a bloody car accident!" Roger snapped. "Not to mention the stomach ulcer just a few months later. I think the Lord of Music is trying to tell you something, Bri. Too many guitar solos will do you in. FUCK!"

Roger leaned away, holding his face in his hands after the curly-haired giant reached out of flick his nose ever so slightly.

"Gangly cunt!"

"Would you to stop it?" Freddie snapped, pushing forward to stand between the two. He stopped, turning to face the blond; his head cocked and eyes narrowed just so. "Roger, how did you know about Brian's bout of hepatitis?"

"What do you mean how do I know? I was bloody there, Fred!" Roger mentioned, hissing as he tried to breath through his nose.

"What tour?"

"Fucking Sheer Heart Attack! Our first time in America and the bastard nearly loses his liver!"

"What year?"

"Seventy-five. Fuck Freddie, what is with the questions?"

"I think he remembers," Freddie mentioned, looking over to Brian.